Gratitude

13/365

I have a job I love.


My coworker brought me homemade lasagna for lunch today.


It’s still not snowing.

Gratitude

4/365

Today I am thankful for smoke breaks. Those quiet moments in between class and tasks at work. Where I take some time to just sit and be with myself. Where I finally let myself do nothing and just enjoy my company.


I am so fortunate to have found a therapist so perfectly suited for this point in my life. Today she asked me if I think I am deserving of self-compassion. When I couldn’t answer she asked me what I thought self-compassion meant. I took a deep breath, looked her right in the eyes, and said, “I guess it means always assuming I’m doing the best I can.” No one has ever asked me that question before. No one has ever asked me if I deserve it. I’m looking forward to learning how to believe I am.


We’re doing inventory at work right now. For those of you who don’t know, I work in a bead shop. This means we have hundreds of thousands of different beads and we are counting every single one of them. Every ear wire, ever bead cap, every card of silk. Everything. I am so happy that I work with people who are making this time amusing and enjoyable instead of the incredible stress heap it could be. I’m also insanely grateful for the scales we bought this year so we can count by weight instead of by hand.

Autobiography · Personal Development · Writing

Collective

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© Collective Agency, 2015.

I noticed it when I started glaring at my walls. Sighing heavy when I moved into my office to start writing for the day. When I couldn’t make myself get up and go running in the morning because what does it matter anyway?

The bounce slipped out of my walk and heavy feet trailed around the apartment. Thick socks dragging dirt from wood floors to carpet and back again. I sat on the couch and played Mario Kart instead of writing. Started watching Jane the Virgin on Netflix. Crocheted my first scarf. Anything to keep my mind, my hands, my eyes busy so I wouldn’t have to write.

Losing momentum. Maybe that’s the best way to describe it. Momentum lost. I love our new apartment and the fact we both have separate offices to work out of. But having a commute that consisted of walking from one room to the next made me feel like I was always and never at work. And not being around other humans during the day really started to take its toll on my emotional well-being.

So last week I joined a coworking space in Portland. I gave myself a thirty minute train ride every morning. A desk surrounded by other desks. People to go to lunch with. A big, warm room filled with folks like me.

And as soon as I got there, I started writing again. Words spilled from my fingertips onto the screen. I careened through blank space, filling it with letters that mattered to me. I took deep breaths and could feel the vibrancy returning to my being.

It’s often the simple things, isn’t it? We have so many monumental battles we’re fighting on any given day that it’s easy for us to forget the small ones. Forget the leaving the house ones. The talking to a friend ones. The making a phone call or reading a book or taking a walk ones. The little battles that make the big ones seem like maybe they’ll be okay.